


An Unlikely Alliance

by Luthienberen



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Gen, Minor Violence, Vampires, grimm_challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the latest attack indicates that a very old creature has crawled forth from the shadows, Nick discovers that vampires are more real and complicated than he had previously considered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unlikely Alliance

**Author's Note:**

> Vague spoilers for Season 2. Minor reference to blood and wounds. Disclaimer: Grimm is owned by NBC. I’m not making any profit off this. Just borrowing for writing. 
> 
> Also, vampires. Yes, I went there…My excuse? Vampires are necessary. Beta-read by my lovely beta rae_fa – any mistakes afterwards are my own. 
> 
> On a more serious note, Mt Calvary Catholic Cemetery is a real location in Portland, but I have never visited so apologies for any mistakes, I tried to be as vague as possible. This was written for the challenge on grimm_exchange fic-07 ‘Quote Association’: "A hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship."

_"A hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship."_

 

John Davin glanced up. For a moment he thought he had heard something.

Scanning the area he saw only the trees that lined this stretch of road. Nothing, not even a squirrel flitting from branch to branch, disturbed the quiet. John shrugged and turned his attention back to the broken down car.

Typical that the tire had to bust on his way home and furthermore at that awkward period in the early-afternoon when no-one was finishing work, (only shift-workers like him), so there was a slim chance of flagging down help.

It wasn’t as if he could call for a break-down service either, his cell had died earlier in the morning.

John curled his fingers over the rubber and pulled. Finally the tire came off. Relived John carefully laid it aside and picked up the spare.

Twigs snapping behind him made him whirl.

The road was empty. No sign of movement issued from the undergrowth though John fancied for a split second that just under the hanging branches where the shadows collected, was a darker shade than the rest.

“Hello?” his voice was weak even to his ears and John castigated himself for being so jumpy. He had been down this road plenty of times and nothing had happened. What should be different about it now?

He became aware of his fingers hurting and realising he was still clutching the spare tire he shook himself and nervously returned to his task, back to the source of his disturbance.

While he knew logically that there was nothing out there to hurt him, John was anxious. All of a sudden the hush seemed unnatural, hiding a stillness that bespoke of something lurking out there - something that liked playing with an innocent man who was attempting to change a tire.

The leaves rustling as in a gush of wind penetrated John’s thoughts, but determined not to surrender anymore to this folly, John refused to turn again. It was only as he had slipped the tire on and fastened it properly that he froze.

How could the leaves rustle with no wind, not even a breeze?

Inexplicably frightened, John twisted around and staring up he saw a man.

If John had been frightened without reason before, now he was terrified, as the man crouched down and smiled gently, gripping him with hands cold as snow. John tried to speak, arms raised to fend off this peculiar man.

“What…what are you doing?”

The man didn’t reply just dragged him forward and the stench of decay caused John’s stomach to clench.

Then the man’s pale face was transformed and John caught a flicker of long sharp white teeth with a long pink tongue, heavy eyebrows and sunken cheeks.

It was the last things he saw.

\- - -

Nick hurried into the morgue.

Hank glanced up from where he had been leaning against a desk, leafing through a file.

 “Hey Nick, had a good ‘meeting’?” fake innocence dripped off him.

Nick scowled at his partner, muttering, “Terrific, Hank, you should come next time.”

Hank, the bastard, laughed. “Don’t drag me in, Nick. You’re the one who’s…what did you say? Ah…‘re-building my friendship with Monroe, since I’ve been AWOL for the last few weeks.”

“Not quite what I said, Hank.”

Hank snorted, “Close enough.”

“I haven’t seen Monroe properly for a few weeks Hank. I think it’s natural to want to make up for lost time.”

Hank rolled his eyes, “I don’t believe Monroe was on the verge of sobbing with despair. He understands our frantic schedule better than most and he definitely sympathises with how ah… difficult your life has been recently.”

Nick frowned. It wasn’t as if Nick disagreed with Hank. His life over the past weeks had been one of unrelenting frustration with Juliette still not remembering compounded with this Grimm business becoming more far-fetched by the case.

No-one was better situated than Monroe in knowing this. Yet Nick missed chatting with Monroe over a beer every alternate evening. He ached for another training session spent in the woods as they honed his skills as a Grimm, as a team.

Nick felt like a ghost when he read through his journals, filling in the pages alone; sharing with Hank was fun, an awesome sensation of relief of sharing this secret part of his self, yet Nick remembered how much fun he and Monroe had had in reading through the Grimm records. Monroe’s mixture of indignation, amusement and intense interest were infectious and they frequently spent hours hashing out theories, plans and writing down corrections.

In short he was lonely. He wanted to reconnect with Monroe and simultaneously have the three of them – Hank, Monroe and himself – fight the Wesen and Royal segments together.

Having regular meetings, was one way of bridging a gap apparently only he felt. Sudden anger welled within him and Nick tensed. He could feel the hot flush of bitter-tinged loneliness threaded through his anger and it was like a beast raring to burst forth.

“Are you two finished?”

Startled, Nick’s anger stuttered, receding slightly as he noticed Harper for the first time. _Excellent observation work detective,_ Nick growled inwardly.

 “Yes.”

“Good, you can discuss troubles with your boyfriend in your own time.”

“What?” spluttered Nick, ignoring Hank’s badly concealed burst of laughter. “Monroe’s not my boyfriend…simply a friend.”

“Of course Detective. Well, you can chat about your ‘friend’ and ‘re-building’ your relationship later. Have a look at Mr Davin here.”

 Nick glared at Hank before stepping towards where Mr Davin’s body lay. He could feel the hot tingle in his cheeks and knew Hank would be teasing him about this moment for weeks.

Nick pressed his flicker of concern at the rage he had just experienced and still felt lurking in his bones away. He had a job to do, possibly a Wesen one as constantly appeared to be the case these days.

Hank joined him. “What happened to Mr Davin? The report says he was savaged by some animal?”

Harper pulled back the sheet and Nick froze.

Mr Davin’s neck was completely torn. The skin and muscle were rendered open so that Nick had a view of the trachea. The shoulder area was also badly damaged and as Nick examined more closely he noticed the claw-like marks on the arms.

“Shit,” muttered Hank. “What did this?”

Harper pointed with a gloved hand to the neck injury. “I would like the answer to that myself Detective Griffin. There are two strange aspects of this attack that are baffling.”

“Oh?” asked Nick sharing a tired look with Hank.

“One, there was only a few specks of blood on the scene, yet such a huge wound must have left copious blood, but the officers on the scene said there was no chance of the body being moved – no tracks lead off the road and Mr Davin’s shoes show no sign of having walked in the woods. Secondly, an animal that attacked like this wouldn’t simply stop and not eat the rest of the body.”

Hank licked his lips, “So what do you think?”

Harper raised an eyebrow, “I haven’t done a thorough analysis yet, but have three scenarios: 1) The body was moved 2) we have an animal that drinks blood and leaves the flesh otherwise untouched or 3) you have a vampire on the loose in Portland.”

Nick laughed. “Vampire? Good one Harper. I think it’s more likely to be a psychopath.”

Patting Hank on the shoulder, Nick poured on the charm. “If that’s all, could you give me pictures of the wounds and I’ll liberate you of Hank’s company.”

“Deal.”

“Hey!”

Nick just grinned and accepting the slim envelope ushered Hank out.

Hank fell into a fast run beside Nick, “Monroe’s?”

“Where else?”

Hank shook his head, “Damn, I wish I wasn’t seriously entertaining the existence of vampires.”

Nick reached his car and slid in. “I wish I could watch a horror film again without questioning whether the monsters might be real.”

“Monroe could---”

Nick turned the key. “Monroe has banned me from viewing said movies with him after the evening which cannot be mentioned.”

With that Nick directed his concentration on heading to Rosalee’s shop.

\- - -

The crime scene was mostly cleared now, only a few remnants lingering: tape across the road and a couple of police officers; neither of which would hold any difficulty for him.

Observing silently from his perch in a tree, he watched as the sky in the west became a deep orange interspersed with a pink-red. Evening was fast approaching and already the shadows were lengthening.

It would be a while however before full night set in – time he did not have. He had to prevent another killing and he knew the creature he hunted would kill again: its thirst was too great to ignore, especially with no restraint to constrain its desire.

Therefore, he quietly and efficiently climbed down from his hiding place and with a confidence born of much practise strolled out of the sylvan gloom.

The reaction of the police officers was amusing: jaws dropping then incredulous demands for him to stop and declare himself – demands he thoroughly disregarded.

Noticing the men reaching for their handguns he moved within a heartbeat and he touched one on the forehead, whispering, “Sleep. Forget.”

As the man crumpled he turned and before his companion could react repeated his action. He checked to ensure they were fine and then shifted his attention to the taped off area.

He had already examined the woods. The scent of the one he hunted was fresh and potent. Now he walked to where the outline of the body was still present and crouching, sniffed.

_The deep odour of the earth, streaked with the stench of decay and sweat and blood._

Opening his mouth he could practically sample the overwhelming hunger of the creature and its joy at feasting.

Lacing through this was the victim’s fear, confusion and pain.

Sorrow rose within him and he sighed. Why did so many have to suffer for this creature’s appetite?

Running his fingers over the road’s harsh surface he contemplated his next move.

He could try and track down the attacker alone, but he was not only in a strange city, but also in a strange land. He had come far, across the Atlantic when he had discerned that the killings were happening with an all too familiar pattern.

A pattern the humans had not yet noticed. The creature would simply escape again if he did nothing so he had travelled for there were none here with the authority or perhaps more rightly, the desire, to do what needed to be done. 

Soon enough the Grimms would notice and he wished not to draw their attention. That said…he had read reports about the Grimm in Portland, reports that he was different.

Reliable sources murmured that he was willing to listen to Wesen and even to assist. Apparently, this Nicholas Burkhardt was friends with a _Blutbad_ , a Fuchsbau and Eisbiber. Remarkable.

Considering his options he grinned. Perhaps he too, could seek the Grimm’s counsel. After all, they had a common cause: locating and destroying this wayward Wesen.

As he walked away, brushing the police as he went by so they would awaken quickly, he admitted that he was also tired of hunting alone.

It was terribly lonely doing the right thing.

\- - -

“Oh man, this is not good,” groaned Monroe as he rifled through the photographs.

Nick crossed his arms, “Harper joked it could be a vampire.”

Monroe scratched his beard, “You know Nick, when forensic staff start offering supernatural alternatives, even as jokes, a guy realises that the crazy crap that goes down in Portland every day is becoming a bit too ah…noticeable.”

Nick sat beside Monroe at the work table in Rosalee’s back room. He acutely missed the comforting ticking noises of Monroe’s clocks. Nick was used to their background music entwining through his conversations with Monroe.

“I’m open to suggestions to lessening the Wesen activity in Portland, Monroe.”

Monroe shook his head, “No ideas, but I really don’t want any witch hunts at my door thanks very much.”

Nick felt vaguely relieved, this concern he could deal with. “You won’t, not while I’m around. As long as I’m a Grimm you’ve got me on your side. We can take the crowd on together.”

“Wow, that’s comforting and yet rather ominous.”

“I’m just going to pretend I didn’t overhear any threats to the public,” injected Hank. “Monroe, is that a vampire’s calling card?”

Nick did not like Monroe’s depressed expression. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Nick frowned, “What’s the problem?”

“The problem? The problem Nick is that vampires in the Wesen word are on par with Blutbaden.”

“We’ve taken on Blutbaden and won,” said Nick slowly, gauging Monroe’s face. His friend was quiet, “but this somehow is not the same right?”

Monroe gazed at the snapshot of the torn open throat, “Vampires. I’ve got to say this is one ‘legend’ that humans have gotten reasonably right. Vampires drink blood, are much stronger and can influence the minds of their victims. They are violent and not easy to capture. They can walk in daylight however and are not dead. Long-lived but not dead.”

“So,” asked Hank. “If they’re alive that means we stand a chance.”

Monroe shared a look with Nick. Nick said softly, “Has any Grimm ever killed a vampire?”

“With an angry mob at their backs in the middle of the vampire-witch-werewolf hunts in Europe yes.”

“Shit.”

“Pretty much. Nick, I don’t have advice. Vampires keep to themselves and like I said, influence people’s minds. They could walk through a crowded room, kill someone and slip out and everyone would deny they ever existed. Though I’m surprised at this rather um…flagrant murder, after the days of persecution I thought that vampires had agreed to hide and not kill unless necessary.”

“Eminently correct Monroe.”

Nick leapt to his feet gun drawn, while Monroe grabbed a book and Hank swivelled and jumped backwards.

A tall man, possibly in his thirties, stood inside Rosalee’s work-room. The door behind him was shut, yet none of them had heard it open or close or the man’s footsteps as he entered.

Nick recalled Monroe’s observations and swallowed heavily.

“Who are you vampire?”

The stranger seemed amused and not at all offended by his presumption, “Clever Grimm – you live up to the reports already.” His accent was unfamiliar and Nick found it hard to place, almost as if it was distorted by living in a myriad of countries.

Nick scowled, “I asked who are you.”

“My name is Konrad Warren and I am indeed a vampire. Not the one you seek however.”

“How do we know that?”

The vampire – Konrad Warren – cocked his head. “If I were he, I would not waste time talking. The foolish vampire that killed Mr Davin was deranged and would have no compunction in attempting to slaughter all of you.”

Nick tightened his grip, even as the weapon felt useless, “I’m to believe that?”

Konrad held up his hands, “I see proof is required. I am reaching into my breast pocket, please don’t shoot. It’ll mess up my shirt.”

Hank coughed. Nick agreed. Konrad’s shirt was stained with travel and his jacket worn through use. His trousers were also creased from wear and his ankle boots dirty. His clothes may have been of fine-make, but bore the evidence of days of hard travel.

Carefully, Konrad reached into his inside jacket pocket and withdrew a small round object. He stretched out his hand and showed it to Monroe, who snarled.

Immediately, Nick tensed. “Monroe?”

Monroe’s hand on his arm, pushing down, made Nick flick a glance at his friend. Monroe smiled ruefully. “He’s telling the truth Nick. That is the emblem of the Vampire Council. I’ve never seen one, but I’d recognise it anywhere. My cousin is obsessed with vampires and knows what little is available.”

“It could be fake,” volunteered Hank.

“Believe me,” replied Monroe, “even the craziest Wesen wouldn’t invite a vampire’s wrath on them.”

“Let me have a look.” Konrad obliged.

Nick saw a design of a crown with three points with a wolf howling underneath.

Reluctant, but trusting Monroe, Nick sat down and gestured for the vampire to do the same.

“So Konrad Warren. Why are you here?”

Konrad sat on a chair opposite the three of them. He smiled, white sharp teeth momentarily displayed. “I am here to hunt down the vampire who is killing indiscriminately and is threatening our existence.”

“Alone?”

Konrad sneered then, contempt flashing in his brown-gold eyes. “Yes alone. While the Council regulates my brethren in Europe, most members are deeply reluctant to extend efforts to the Americas. We vampires are traditional and abhor long journeys where the chance of discovery is prominent.”

“So? Couldn’t your representatives here take responsibility,” asked Nick, not trusting Konrad fully yet.

Konrad glanced over at Monroe, “He really doesn’t know. Your Grimm is very young Monroe.”

Nick bristled, “Leave Monroe out of this.”

Konrad held up his hands a placating manner. “Peace Grimm. Though I am astonished you believe your petty threats scare me. Your friend however, can confirm what I will tell you now: there are no representatives of the Vampire Counsel in the USA. We never made the transition and frankly there are only a mere handful of vampires in the whole of the USA; a situation not warranting our constant presence.”

Monroe nodded. “He’s right Nick.”

“So, how did this vampire begin killing?”

Konrad sighed, “An oversight. An overzealous order from a member of the Council resulted in this vampire losing a friend and after some attacks – no deaths Grimm – he fled. I’ve tracked him here after following news reports and listening to informants.”

Konrad played with the emblem, the silver flashing. “You must understand, I spend my time chasing down errant vampires, whether they kill, attack too obviously or simply lead lives where they risk revealing themselves to humans.” Konrad looked at Hank. “Not everyone can be a _Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen_ , not without it becoming frenzied masses terrified at the truth.”

Nick could see Monroe agreeing, believing Konrad and wanted to yell how he could he trust a vampire?

Konrad seemed to sense his doubts for he stopped spinning the emblem and focused fully on Nick.

“Nicholas Burkhardt, I have _endured_ for four hundred years. I have loved and lost more people than you’ve met. For three hundred of those I have cleaned up the messes of others, incidentally inciting the ill-feeling of a lot of my kin and acquaintances and consequently having to occasionally out-run some of my own.”

Konrad laughed, but it was tinged with a similar bitterness Nick sometimes felt. “I admit to wearyingof distrust and of the chase. Sometimes I wish for friendship and being taken on my word.” Konrad caught Nick with a piercing look.

“Perhaps you understand, perhaps you don’t. I am willing to assist and I require _your_ help for I am in a country that is wholly alien to me.”

The silence was deafening and Nick could feel the burning gazes of Hank and Monroe. Hank emanating distrust, Monroe practically carving into his flesh that they had no choice, idiot Grimm.

Nick drank in the bleakness in Konrad, an echo of his own at certain points in his life and decided.

_We’re not that different. I know loneliness and exhaustion from hunting and hiding._

“How can we help?”

Konrad actually smiled genuinely then. Hank groaned, but Monroe just grinned.

 “So, what can we do to stop your errant vampire?”

Konrad’s eyes glimmered, “Well…”

\- - -

“A cemetery? Isn’t that a little obvious?” questioned Hank.

Konrad spared a glance at Hank, “Perhaps, yet the obvious is sometimes the best choice. Whatever your opinion on the subject, I know he’s here. I can smell his foul stench anywhere.”

Nick directed a nervous scan of their surroundings, not that he could see much beyond the carefully shielded light of their torches. They were standing huddled in a corner of Mt Calvary Catholic Cemetery, while Konrad tried sensing where the other vampire was lurking. Nick didn’t like cemeteries, for though he didn’t quite believe in ghosts, (yet after his near drowning by La Llorona…), cemeteries struck him as places where life and death met and consequently anything was possible.

Vampires for one.

 Nick felt Monroe’s warm hand settling on his arm. He relaxed slightly, looking into Monroe’s Woged features. “Yes?”

“I can smell him too.”

“Where?”

“To our right.”

“I’ll go ahead. You have it Grimm?”

Nick nodded. “Yes. Don’t go far.”

“I shan’t.” With that Konrad disappeared into the black night like a stone in water.

Hank swallowed hard, “I’ll be a few paces over to your left.”

Nick simply waved, not willing for them to speak further.

Monroe stuck close and together they began walking forwards, bearing right and attempting not to wander off the path.

A hush fell over the party and as they went on, Nick grew more uneasy. The night air was oppressive, clinging to him almost as if the night was a tangible object. The few lights that provided tasteful illumination and security were little relief and instead made monsters out of the looming monuments to departed loved ones.

Goosebumps rose on Nick’s skin and it was as if the air to his left abruptly became fiercely cold and sharp.

He was turning even as he caught a glimpse of a blurred figure and then he was tumbling backwards, slamming into the ground. Pain flashed, but Nick forced himself to see through the fireworks.

He espied red glaring eyes set in a ruddy face, _from drinking blood,_ his mind supplied, sunken cheeks reminding Nick of starvation. Ears curved into points and then a mouth was opening displaying fangs dripping salvia.

Nick’s training and Grimm heritage flowed into his veins, strength of his ancestors refusing to let this demon to sup on his blood and take his life.

Heaving an arm up, he relished the surprise in the vampire’s hellish expression and taking advantage, Nick wrenched the creature off.

Everything had occurred in mere seconds and as Nick struggled to his feet, hand going to his belt he watched Monroe jump snarling on the vampire, but the red of his eyes was a comfort – not evil.

Then Konrad was there seizing his own kind in a grip that was astonishing as he lifted the kicking, spitting fiend off the ground. Konrad spat, “Hurry Grimm!”

Nick flung himself forward aware of Hank shouting caution as he kept look-out. Once by Konrad the vampire lowered his catch and held him fast, a hand over the mouth. Not wishing to hesitate, Nick stared into eyes that only held hate as he set the stake carved from ash against the vampire’s breast.

_To break the enchantment of my kind,_ Konrad had murmured, brown-gold eyes bitter with the loneliness of both a hunter and a man hunted himself.

Then with Monroe’s hands holding it steady, Nick took the hammer and drove the stake into marble flesh.

The shriek curdled his blood, but Nick continued as blood flowed, hammering until the vampire writhed no more.

Into the silence Nick’s breaths were almost obscene.

Hank was frantic, face pale. Monroe didn’t appear much better.

“How the heck wasn’t _that_ heard by anyone?” yelped Hank.

Konrad let go, watching dispassionately as the now dead vampire hit the path.

In the glare of their torches Konrad too appeared less than human, brows dark and heavy, teeth too sharp, too perfect.

Monroe shakily answered Hank, “Um, my cousin will handle that. I called him while you lot made the stake. Don’t worry.”

Nick stared at Monroe. He did worry, but it was useless to argue. A part of him also wondered exactly who _was_ Monroe’s cousin, if he could conceal such horrific events, but that too was a pointless consideration for the moment.

“Okay Konrad, grab him and let’s get out of here.”

Lifting the body and searching the area one last time, Nick noted Monroe calling his cousin ere they departed the scene.

The Wesen he knew.

Ha.

Another day in the life of a Grimm indeed.

 


End file.
